


pain tolerance

by wyvernknighted



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Established Relationship, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Family member death, Near Death Experiences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 12:14:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25849372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyvernknighted/pseuds/wyvernknighted
Summary: When he was younger and less taciturn, Gerome once boasted about his unusually high pain tolerance. But he had only been proud of his ability to endure physical pain. It was emotional loss that left him unable to cope.He thought he had grown distant enough to forget what that sort of grief felt like. It was only when Laurent fell in battle that he realized how wrong he was.
Relationships: Gerome/Loran | Laurent
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	pain tolerance

**Author's Note:**

> alright I finished FE13 a little bit ago and I am not okay. Also fell in love with this pairing and had to write for them.
> 
> this doesn't exactly match the deaths for Gerome's parents as detailed in canon, so slight canon divergence wrt that.
> 
> edit: reposting this, don't mind me

When he was younger and less taciturn, Gerome once boasted about his unusually high pain tolerance. He was a boy who could skin his knees in a tumble and wobble back on to his feet with minimal trouble. He used to show how close he could hold his hand near flames or heated metal without flinching. He didn’t fear physical pain at least.

That attitude had helped him as a Wyvern rider. He would not fear the many tumbles and accidents of a beginner, as his body would always heal from minor wounds. He had broken his arm at seven, and that kind of pain taught him what he was capable of surviving. Gerome had come to believe that his body was an enduring thing, something he had forged from training and a certain amount of callousness. He learned this attitude in part from observing his mother’s quiet calm astride Minerva. She never faltered though she soared through skies at deadly heights. He did not recall ever seeing her flinch, let alone cry. In his own training, he strove for that level of calm with regard to pain. As a warrior who’s battlefield was the sky, he learned that one must stave off fears of injury.

He later realized it was only physical pain of which he had a high tolerance. Emotional pain though? That was something he still had yet to figure out.  
  
He had experienced the depths of loss, of course. When his mother died, followed later by his father, he knew what grief was. It signified a clear division in one’s life – that before, and the permanent change of after. It was looking for something essential and finding only empty space. Or worse yet, seeing the person you looked up to replaced by a stiff imposter in a casket, or reduced to something broken and unrecognizable. Perhaps that was better than some of his comrades, who had simply lost someone. Those who had vanished with no concrete end. At least he had a pair of gravestones to sit before when he was feeling particularly despairing. Sometimes the hope for a better future worsened that final stroke of death. Gerome had tossed that aside a long time ago.

At least he thought he had.

When he saw Laurent drop in the middle of battle, he felt his heart leap from his chest. In its wake was the crushing fear that yet another person essential had gone. He grasped Minerva’s reigns and redirected their flight path, completely breaking formation. Luckily, his mind was only filled with a distant buzz, devoid entirely of worry outside of Laurent’s heartbeat. Minerva obliged with a snap, going along with his sudden change only because she could sense his terror.

He saw Laurent’s slumped body amongst the hordes of Risen, his hand dangling upwards. Gerome realized he was reaching outward and flew widely. A blast of wind magic flew from his fingertips, erupting into an all-encompassing whirlwind that pushed crowds of undead back. Gerome angled Minvera towards the gap, and they dove as a unit in sync. Minerva landed lightly, giving Gerome the space to clamber from her back and run to Laurent’s side.

“W-what are you doing?” Laurent said through clenched teeth. His hands now clutched his side at a wound along his lower abdomen. It was bleeding deeply and the sight of it drove Gerome to action. He didn’t speak as he tore a piece of cloth from his cape, pressing it tenderly to staunch the bleeding.

“Just hold that and let me carry you.” Gerome kneeled beside him, lifting the mage into his arms. “We don’t have much time.” He could see the gathering crowd of Risen on this side of the battlefield. The undead halted for no one. He carried Laurent as gingerly as he could manage to Minerva’s side. “Can you sit?”

Laurent nodded stiffly. Gerome carefully lifted him into the saddle, setting him further towards the back of the mount. “I’m going to sit close up front. You hold on tight to my back. If you feel your grip loosening because of—” Gerome broke off the words, overwhelmed by their meaning.

“I’ll tell you.” Laurent looked weak except for his eyes which burned with that same intensity that Gerome had long admired in him. Even now, when Gerome was struggling to process the pain around them, Laurent managed to keep himself steady for the both of them. It made him want to cry right there in the midst of battle. Instead, he took an unsteady breath and climbed on to his mount.  
  


* * *

“I have already said, I am not sorry for breaking formation.” Gerome grimaced. “I would not have had to do so if the formation hadn’t risked Laurent’s safety.”

Chrom and Robin surveyed him, each with their arms crossed. They looked like parents about to chastise him over a broken vase.

Chrom replied first. “I understand why you did it. But your decision still impacted the rest of us! Your absence left another side of the formation vulnerable while Robin had already sent reinforcements to support Laurent’s position.

Gerome shrugged. “In the midst of battle, we all make decisions. I chose to protect an ally.”

“And for that we thank you.” Chrom gave him a stiff nod, though his expression still breathed reproach. “But you need to trust our tactician. She knows what she’s doing.”

“Perhaps I will allow trust when such tactics no longer risk the lives of those essential to me.” Gerome snapped. “You all claim we can change fate, which I still do not believe. But at the very least, don’t force me to lose any more. Our lives are not replaceable! His –” He cut himself off, running a nervous hand in his hair. He was surprised when he looked up to see Robin had neared him. She placed a cautious hand on his upper arm, her expression sincere.

“Gerome. I’m really sorry. It shouldn’t have happened, and you’re right to be upset.” She squeezed his arm gently before pulling away. “I hope to earn back your trust in our upcoming battles.”

“Oh come now—” Chrom was defensive, as he often got over matters involving Robin’s tactics. But she silenced him with a look.

“He is right to feel angry over this.” She glanced back at him with an apologetic frown. “I’ll do better, I promise.”

Gerome merely nodded, and soon after took his leave. He flew from the tent in long strides. Stains of red along his dark cloak, now torn, reflected in the moonlight. As he hurried towards the infirmary, he could not still his hands. No matter how tightly he held them, they trembled.

  
Brady was standing outside of the tent perusing some medical supplies when Gerome passed him. “What’s up, pal— Hey, hold it!” The priest grabbed his shoulder, and Gerome had to remind himself not to rip away from his touch. “You lookin’ for Laurent?”

“What made you guess?”

“Well look, I just wanted to make sure you don’t run in there and stress him out more!” Brady said. “I just got him to sleep. Just be quiet coming in, okay?”

Gerome nodded as he shrugged Brady’s hand off of him. He entered the tent carefully so as not to wake him. Laurent was the only patient occupying a cot near the back. As he approached, Gerome felt himself visibly relax. Seeing the rise and fall of Laurent’s chest confirmed that everything was going to be okay this time. The anxiety that had been coursing through his body faded to an overall malaise. As he took the seat by the cot, Gerome realized how exhausting it was to care so deeply for another. He took off his mask and set it aside. Absentmindedly, he caressed the side of Laurent’s face. A piece of his crimson hair was out of place so he gently tucked it back beneath his ear. It was then that he heard Laurent’s quick exhale of breath and realized that he was staring at him.

“I didn’t realize you were awake.” Gerome began to withdraw his hand.

“No it’s—” Laurent reached out, placing his hand over Gerome’s. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. “It’s pleasant.”

“Okay.” Gerome tried to remain still so as not to bother him further.

“Are you okay?” Laurent was staring at him again.

“Why are you asking me that? You’re the one in the infirmary.”

“Because you’re shaking.” Laurent gestured to his hands. He wasn’t wrong. They were still trembling with the aftershocks of adrenaline.

“Just nerves.” Gerome forced himself to take a deep breath. “It’s hard to handle it again when you know what the last few times felt like.”

“I understand.” Laurent smiled, lightly squeezing his hand. “Were they upset?”

“About breaking formation?” Gerome scoffed. “They mentioned it. Robin actually apologized.”

“Over what?”

“Leaving the flank open in the first place.”

“You should not have broken formation.” Laurent’s tone was level.

“I’m not sorry that I did.” Gerome held his gaze sincerely.

“I know.” Laurent smiled. “You should not have done it. But I appreciate it nonetheless.”

Gerome leaned down, close enough that their foreheads touched. The warm ghost of Laurent’s breath brushed his cheek, and he felt a deep ache in his chest.

“I can’t lose another person. Not someone who means as much as you do to me.”

Laurent nodded in understanding. “I feel much of the same. If I had been in your position, I would have broken formation to give you aid.”

“I know.” Gerome leaned down further, lightly kissing Laurent’s forehead. “What I have with you…it’s the closest I’ve felt to another person.”

Before Laurent could reply, the slap of the tent door interrupted his words.

“What did I tell ya Gerome? Laurent needs his rest!” Brady stormed in, hands on his hips. “I know y’all are cute, but if yer honeymoonin’ leads to his stitches tearing there’s gonna be hell to pay!”

“Right, right.” Gerome leaned back and hastily slid his mask back over his face. “For what it’s worth I didn’t intentionally wake him.”

“I actually never fell asleep.” Laurent chimed in. “If that helps the situation.”

“Y’all are hopeless, I swear.” Brady headed towards the door, leering at both of them. “I’ll give you some privacy, but use your heads! Geez.”

When they were alone again, Gerome and Laurent merely held hands and exchanged soft words. Gerome smiled as he watched Laurent fall asleep eventually, content just to see him well and recovering.

Perhaps he hadn’t entirely thrown away his fear of pain or of loss. But was it really so bad, to once again have something he didn’t want to lose?

**Author's Note:**

> I have fallen into gerolau hell because I love their dynamic ok
> 
> I may write more for them if I find the time and motivation. For now, I hope you enjoyed this! Thanks for reading.


End file.
